


Conjure

by QueenOfPlotTwists



Series: 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween Challenge [11]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Halloween Challenge, Implied Bronzeshipping, Implied puzzleshipping, Love at First Sight, October Prompt Challenge, Spells & Enchantments, The Yamis are Male Witches, The Yamis are Related, Witches and Warlocks, Yamis Have Their Own Body, implied tendershipping, love spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfPlotTwists/pseuds/QueenOfPlotTwists
Summary: Of all the spells and hexes, charms and curses, prophecies and poisons the Conjure Cousins--three Sennen men with witch blood running through their veins--have ever cast, only one was for themselves.OrAtem, Malik and Bakura are The Weird "Sisters" who gather together to conjure a spell for their Heart's Desire--soulmates.31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween ChallengePrompt 20: Omen
Series: 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween Challenge [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947991
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	Conjure

**Author's Note:**

> I am totally obsessed with the Weird Sisters from McBeth, AND since its Halloween, Hocus Pocus has been on non-stop so, of course, I TOTALLY fell in love with the idea of the Three Yamis as the Three Witches conjuring spells, casting curses, causing trouble and much much more...and of course, being from a family of witches (I've always had a head cannon of their mother's being sisters) they do what any witch does when they want something--cast a spell for their heart's desire. 
> 
> This will be a prequel ;) I have a follow-up already in the works.
> 
> Pretty sure you can see the Hocus Pocus references ;)
> 
> Day 11 of my 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween Challenge: https://horrificmemes.tumblr.com/post/165553173026/31-horrific-days-v2-october-writing-challenge
> 
> Prompt 20: Omen

Conjure

Of all the spells the witches conjured, only one was for themselves. Many a spell had been cast for those desperate or demanding enough to request their arts: spells for love, vengeance curses, household charms, hexes, prophecies, poisons—but on this night when the moon hung thick and mysterious over the moors and the world was deep in the through of autumn and the veil weak with the changing of the tides and the thinning of the barrier, the cauldron’s billowing wisps of purple mists, the color of magic: were for them and they alone.

The Weird Sisters—as they were called collectively, for they occupied the same cottage on the furthest edges of the moors—were not sisters, ironically enough, but cousins and _boys_. The youngest three in a long line notorious for their strangeness. Their grandfather was a well respected shopkeeper by the name of Shimon. His wife had been a mysterious woman of unknown origin and no prospect who’s arrival in town was as strange and unusual as she was. They were an odd pair: he was a short, stout, fair-haired man with dark eyes and a youthful smile and an adventurous spirit that conflicted with the strict pious nature of the village. Solomina was tall and willowy, her long hair a curtain of darkness streaked with red and eyes so bright and green many mistook her for a Faerie creature. She was a kind-hearted girl who spoke her mind and would not be cowed. She had a quiet sort of confidence and an intellect that rivaled a scholar's. Their wedding and marriage had been met with both scrutiny and suspicion, even more so when the marriage birthed not one, not two but three triplet daughters as diverse as it was possible to be different.

The girls grew wild in the woods with their mother, learning the power of plants and crystals and healing and hexes and spells and beasts and the power of letters and books and wisdom and knowledge and games from their father. They would go to town together as a family, the girls made no effort to hide their strangeness: their sharp tongues and sharper wit, their fiery tempers and stubbornness, their unique skills and special talents: poison, thieving, embroidery, herbology, ruling. 

_Witches_ , came the gossip and whispers, and yet it did not stop the men of town from courting them—nor the three girls from rejecting them, for only special men may court a witch’s daughter, Someone who knew well to respect her wild heart and her fierce temper and to embrace her spirit rather than try to tame it: all things the fool-hearty and selfish of the village were not. And so as their mother before them, they came together one night around the cauldron and cast a spell to summon their heart’s desire.

One married a handsome dark-haired gypsy and learned the art of dancing and horses and thievery finding freedom in the life of traveling caravans and gypsy campfires. 

The second married a scholar who showed her old scrolls and tones depicting ancient knowledge and wisdom and did nothing to stop her from obtaining this knowledge. She used it to improve her doctoring as well as her own experimentation.

The third fell in love with the Magister’s son, a man with kind eyes and a gentle smile and a heart more giving than any she had ever met. Together they ruled the village and made many improvements to help the poor and the lost against the wills of the old and the arrogant, for like her mother before her she was too fierce to be cowed, and her husband respected her strength and wisdom too much to restrain her.

The three sisters lived long, happy lives. In time each one bore a single child, a son. Three boys who grew into their teenage years and inherited the house their mothers had grown up in.

The third man arrived just as the moon vanished beneath the night black clouds casting silver shadows upon the glade of skeletal birch trees shaped like hands stripped to the bones clawing free of their earthly graves. They came in cloak of emerald, violet and crimson, baskets in hand eager to take advantage of the ripe full moon of Hallow’s Eve—a blue moon none the less, making it all the more powerful.

The cauldron was already bubbling with mystic power, eager and hungry for offerings.

“Hello boys,” Atem greeted his “brothers” pulling down the hood of his crimson cloak, the color as bold as his cerise eyes and confident grin, a crown of shadow and fire burning proud upon his head.

Malik flashed him a toothy grin that would not look out of place on a wolf or a wild-eyed fox playing tricks, but Bakura only rolled his eyes. “Took you long enough,” he snapped, voice sharp and husky. The deep green color of his cloak a stark contrast to the frosty white spikes of his hair, the pallor of his skin, the darkness of his eyes.

He waved his hands over the swirling spell. “Now hurry up while the moon’s still up.”

“Yes,” Malik asked, still grinning. The hood of his deep violet cloak cast sinister shadows over his face, making his mocha skin appear darker, the lavender light of his eyes paler and more mysterious. “Thrice the Black cat hath mewed and the hedge-hog whah!”

He shrieked in complaint when Bakura wrenched down his hood in annoyance. He pulled back the hood, allowed his wild mane of spikes blond locks to burst out and glared at his cousin, growling. 

Bakura ignored him. “Do have the spells?”

“I have everything!” Atem swagger up to the cauldron and placed a second basket upon the cauldron’s large lip.

“Then let us begin,” Bakura grinned and the three cackled in mischievously wicked delight.

They stirred the cauldron. Divided the ingredients between them, began to chant.

“Double double toil and trouble, fires burn and cauldron bubble!”

The cauldron obeyed, bubbling brightly and bursting with prismatic pops of sparks. Lilac mists poured over the rim and billows of iridescent steam swirled and danced from the brew. A rainbow of sparks burst forth, signaling the magic was ready.

They shared smirks began the spell.

“Roses, bloom and thorn,” Atem dropped the dried flowers into the spot. “And primrose plucked on spring morn.” Deep red petals preserved and dried and thick claws-like thorns distilled within the violet water followed by sweet yellow blooms fluttering about like stars before vanishing in a whirlpool of lavender.

“Water blessed by Sturgeon’s Moon,” Bakura upended a red glass bike just as Malik dropped in white feathers of different sizes one at a time. “Feather of swan who honk and dove that coon.”

“Moonstone for dreams and Rose quartz’ crystal gleam.” Atem gathered a handful of preadolescent stones, then crushed crystals of rosy pink.

“Jewels that shimmer and copper that shines,” Bakura looked longingly at the jeweled necklaces and cooper spoons he'd been gifted and reluctantly dropped them into the pot.

“Hair of Wolf, Alpha and She, intertwined.” Malik flashed a surprisingly suspicious grin as he dropped that one in. Neither Bakura nor Atem has the stomachs to question where Malik had acquired that particular ingredient.

“Leaves of Maple, scarlet red,” Atem dropped them in one at a time, having specifically chosen only the best and brightest of leaves for this particular spell.

“Skin of Apple thrown over our heads,” Marik said gleefully having collected the peels after they’d played the game earlier that autumn, though none could tell if the shapes represented actual letters.

“And lastly...” Bakura grinned.

Their smiles, all shadowed, as they all held up a perfectly preserved blooming branch, then dropped them together, chanting

“Myrtle,” Bakura dropped in evergreen branch boasting a cluster of star-shaped cranberry flowers.

“Jasmine,” Malik forfeited a branch plump with cymoses of white spindly flowers.

“And cherry,” Atem added the final branch, sporting clusters of small delicate pink flowers, and watched as their heart shape petals spiraled in the waters like a gust of wind.

And together they raised their hands and changed impassioned and overcome by vivacious zeal “So Mote It Be!”

The cauldron bubbled and spun, solids and flowers liquefied, swirled then with a burst of pink, purple and red, erupted in a shower of sparks and passion and light.

“Well done, boys.” Atem whistled in approval. His two co-conspirators nodded in congratulatory agreement. “Well done.”

“So how do we do this?” Malik asked a little inpatient. “One at a time? Or all at once? Last thing I want, is have to do compete with you too. Or worse,” he grimaced, shuddering. “ _Share_.”

“We go one at a time,” Bakura explained plucking three hairs from his head and barked at Atem to hand him the dagger.

Atem rolled his eyes and tossed him the blade.

Bakura caught it easily and pricked his forefinger. “Something personal to distinguish us.”

“Three hairs and three drops of blood should do it,” Atem added, personalizing his contribution all the more with one of each of his three hair colors. “Thank God it didn’t ask for essence of man.”

All three of them shuddered in disgust.

“That would’ve just been awkward,” Malik made a disgusted sound and stuck out his tongue.

“I’ll go first,” Bakura shrugged and dropped his hair into the pot and let three drops of blood spill from the slice on his finger. Then pulled out a single thorny rose and plucked a petal for each request. “I want someone strong but submissive, quiet but confident, and not afraid to speak his mind.” He became strangely wistful as he spoke, closed his eyes and his lips curled into what could only be a smile, not a snicker or a smirk but an actual calm smile.

It was such an unusual expression for their snarky and sardonic cousin, who was known for his crass manor, that Atem and Malik exchanged bewildered blinks.

“Someone sweet, but witty. Someone polite but strong-willed. Honest, but unafraid. Someone with eyes the color of emeralds,” it had only been his favorite color. “Skin as soft as moonlight and hair white as snow.” He has plucked all the petals leaving only a thorny stem and smiled. “Someone who will make me feel _alive_.” He dropped in the thorns.

“Of course, you would,” Atem chuckled. Supposedly, it made sense Bakura would want someone opposite himself in personality and character.

“I want someone sweet,” Malik whined.

“Then ask for it.” Bakura retorted, sharply. _There_ he was.

“I will!” Malik snatched another rose and the knife before Yami could despite his glare--the arrogant little brat always hated going last--and dropped in three drops of blood with his hair and started plucking petals.

“You _do_ know what you want right?” Bakura retorted arching a brow.

“Yes,” Malik sang that wild smirk returning. “I want someone fierce and strong with a fiery temper and a fiery personality, someone ambitious...”

“You know that sounds like Atem right?” Bakura teased gesturing to his grimacing cousin with a thumb.

“Shut up!” Malik growled so furiously his hair and tongue writhed like snakes around him. He calmed himself down before continuing “ _Ambitious_ ," he repeated but then he become oddly dreamlike and wistful."But, honest, and loyal and sweet. Someone dutiful and curious and eager and rebellious and loves to explore and loves new things and loves cats. And he’ll be an great cook!” He grinned wildly. "And he'll have the appearance and personality of a desert wild cat!" He punctured that declaration by tossing in the thorn stem.

His cousins blinked.

“That...was...” Bakura didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t used to Malik’s surprising him.

“Oddly specific,” Atem finished.

“Yes!" Malik nodded gleefully and handed Atem the knife "You’re turn, Temmy.”

The boy took the last rose from the basket and stroked it, lovingly. It was soft beneath his skin: he knew exactly what to ask. He dropped the first petal in with his hair and three drops of blood. “I want someone...marvelously kind, selflessly courageous. Someone shy, but confident, humble, but strong, someone who can flip pancakes in the air, and who loves chocolate and animals and plants, someone honest who listens and understands, and who I can always talk to. Someone I can share secrets with and never keep secrets from. Someone brave and clever, someone thoughtful and patient and forgiving but also fun-loving and carefree and creative and adventurous. Someone with eyes that are sometimes blue and sometimes violet. Someone who loves games, _all_ kinds of games!" he pronounced _that_ particular request with a delight that bordered on lascivious hunger. "Someone as sweet as the desserts he bakes!” He said it so giddily that Marik made a disgusted sound.

“Of course, you’d want a baker.” Bakura teased but Atem ignored them both--too lost in the fantasy of his heart's desire.

“Someone I can ravish and spoil to my heart's desire.” He let that implication lie and tossed in the thorny stem.

With the last of their enchantments complete the three gathered round the pot and watched the rainbow liquid swirl and bubble and then finally start to burn.

They covered their eyes just as the cauldron exploded. Once the dust settled, they stared into the cauldron and gasped as three candles remained inside. Three Ivory candles engraved with spell charms--incantations and requirments in faded ink that dependent on the light looked violet or emerald green or crimson.

“Is that it” Malik half-asked, half-complained.

“Yes!” Atem gasped leaping over the limp and dived straight in with such gusto, his cousins shrieked when his upper half disappeared into the pot and threatened to consume the rest of him. They leapt to attention and grabbed him round the waist, forcing their reckless cousin back and pulled him out.

The brat grinned like a cat with all the cream, and giggled with such giddiness for a moment they feared he'd gone mad, with how tightly he clutched the three candles in his arms.

“These are Black Flame Summoning Candles!” He gasped with zealous wonder.

The other cackled in approval.

"Seems ironic doesn't it?" Malik snickered. "Crafting our heart's desire so none of us shall die from a broken heart?"

"Or self-fulfilling prophecy," Bakura snorted, a failed attempt to make light of the grim air that fell upon the three.

And it was true...no with could live long with a broken heart. And when illness had taken Atem's father, prejudice has stolen Bakura's, and fear of heresy Malik's: their brave, bold mothers had survived only through their love for their sons and each other. But when Grandpa Shimon had died, nothing could be done to heal Grandma Solmy's broken heart.

"But is that not why we're all here?" Atem's smile curled ashe spoke, lifting the ivory candle who's charms glowed crimson. "These..." A triumphant grin. "Can only be lit by our chosens and when they are we shall be summoned to their side! Forevermore!”

His giddiness was infectious and soon the other two sported triumphant smiles, of their own, gleaming at their respective candles and the promise of their heart's desire.

The three witches cackled.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone knows where I can find a picture of the three Yamis in witch costumes--or wants to draw me one, i take commissions--let me know!!!
> 
> I may turn this into another one-shot series just for fun cause I've been obsessed with all things Witchy and Halloween-themed/Land of the Dead/Demon Realm/Place where all mythology is real, due my obsession with The Owl House, Hazbin Hotel, Halloweentown (which honestly is kind meh), Hocus Pocus and of course all things Tim Burton and Nightmare Before Christmas/Corpse Bride :)
> 
> Also I plan on giving the three boys familiar-esque staff toppers (loosely based off the Owl House palismans) but I have no idea what to use for these three 'cause...yeah so...any thoughts?
> 
> Sooner the sequel will come out once i decide...Come on our three hikaris exploring the Hocus Pocus house, running for their lives from their obssessively-loving witch soulmates before being spirited away to the land of magic and demons, you now you wanna see it ;)


End file.
